We’re staying at a luxurious eco-lodge on the Freycinet Peninsula. The view from the property is spectacular:
And we are at one with the wildlife living here, including this lizard who calls our bedroom home:
The Freycinet Peninsula is another of Tassie’s coastal gems, with breath-taking views around nearly every corner, such as here at Honeymoon Bay:
But there’s no time to spare, we’re off on another cruise. Today the boat’s much bigger than on our trip to Maria Island, a catamaran in fact. This is no bad thing as, despite the brilliant sunshine and clear blue skies, the sea’s rockin’ and rollin’.
We set off towards Wineglass Bay. The catamaran is comfortable, verging on the luxurious, and we settle back to enjoy the scenic coastline of the Freycinet Peninsula:
However the sea begins to take its toll, and pretty soon sickness is rampant amongst the assembled passengers. The crew are attentive, brilliant in fact, circulating endlessly amongst the sufferers offering sympathy, advice, ginger tablets and, when all that fails, a discrete paper bag.
We sail on, admiring dramatic cliffs painted in vibrant shades of orange and pink:
As with so much of our Tassie experience, the weather is everything. On a grey, wet, windy day this trip would be a miserable mistake. Today, with the sun beating down from a cloudless sky and the ocean molten cobalt, it’s magical:
The sea doesn’t seem too bad to us and we prove immune to its sly mischief. For us the experience is exhilarating: the warmth of sun, the wind tugging at our hair, the choppy challenge of the waves:
Around us, however, others are less resilient. Some of our fellow passengers are turning a whiter shade of pale, others as green as the grass back home, and in private corners embarrassed chunder monkeys are compelled to review the morning’s breakfast. We shrug it off, and enjoy views of the majestic Shy Albatross wheeling above the waves:
At another point, we pull close to the shoreline to inspect a White-bellied Sea Eagle sitting atop its massive nest. These birds mate for life and return to the same nest every year, simply building an extension to previous years’ efforts. The results are hugely spectacular:
Finally we reach our destination, Wineglass Bay, where we drop anchor in its sheltered waters to eat lunch. The food showcases the best of Tasmanian produce. It’s attractively presented in bento-boxes, though many of our fellow travellers are too ill to be seduced by its undoubted charms. Julie and I, however, tuck in ravenously:
As we eat we take in the view. Wineglass Bay has a reputation as one of the world’s most beautiful beaches. It certainly looks the part today:
And what a romantic name, someone says, conjuring up comforting images of happy hours spent in the company of loved ones on an intriguingly curved stretch of pristine coast. As if the observation has been overheard the PA system clicks on and the guy who’s been doing commentary during the journey pipes up again.
“And in case you’re wondering where it gets its name, Wineglass Bay has nothing to do with its shape or even with the local wine industry. It dates back to the whaling days. The dead whales were hauled in to be processed at whaling stations dotted all around the bay. So many whales were butchered here that the sea in the bay would be turned wine-red by the blood.”
Now there’s something to really make you sick.